


Guess Who's Back

by MerlinOfTheShire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mystery Spot (Supernatural) Fusion, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Arthur is confused by modern times, Best Friends, Bromance, Could Be Canon, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama, Epic Bromance, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Male Friendship, Medieval, Merlin Hallucinates, Merlin grows old, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin stays young, Merlin waits, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Modern times, Post-Magic Reveal, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Romance, Sad Merlin (Merlin), leon shows up, merlin cries, merlin lives, non continuous chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-13 19:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18037952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerlinOfTheShire/pseuds/MerlinOfTheShire
Summary: All the ways Arthur could return. The good, the sad and the ridiculous.





	1. Guess Who's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has waited over a thousand years for Arthur. 
> 
> In all that time he had never expected for Arthur to return, armour and all, threatening a tv set in the middle of London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin or its characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> Please, enjoy.

 

Merlin hadn't aged a day. Not in terms of what would have been biologically acceptable. If that were the case, he would have become part of the earth long ago. No, he still looked as he had in Camelot. Well, almost anyway. Every now and then he caught himself in a mirror and saw that he looked tired. So very tired. That was what happened when you wait for someone to return from the dead for 1,500 years, possibly more. Merlin had stopped counting a while ago.

A long while ago.

Yet, despite all that had happened over those long years, Merlin had found himself back and close to home. Now, London. After all the years of collecting interest, he found it easy to keep a home, a healthy diet and all other necessities. Netflix, for example.

What wasn't easy for him, was the waiting. There was so much waiting. Nothing out of the ordinary or remotely magical happened anymore. Ever.

Until, at last, it did.

* * *

Arthur didn't have a bloody clue where he was. He had just sort of woken up at the edge of the lake. To him, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. If anything, it was a bit cloudier. Merlin had gone off somewhere, however, which concerned the King greatly.

Naturally, he was determined to find his lost servant.

Which is how Arthur ended up fully armoured in chainmail and crimson cape, sword at his hip, in the middle of what he would later learn to be called London.

He realised quite quickly, that he stood out. Though, in his mind, it was everyone else that looked funny. Not him. He was King, after all. He was hoping that Merlin had an explanation to all this, like he usually did. Until then, he was stuck figuring it out himself. It wasn't going too well.

Nothing looked familiar to the King. The walls, the buildings, the roads; even the people. He had almost been trampled by the strange magic wheeled things on several occasions, which threatened him with a loud honking noise whenever this happened.

He kept asking the 'peasants' where he might find Camelot, Gwen, his knights, and most importantly Merlin. The responses he got involved a lot of staring, a question as to his drinking habits, or if he was 'for real?'. Arthur thought that was a stupid question, of course, he was real. Why wouldn't he be? The people of this land were strange. Very strange. Magic seemed to be all around him, which was quite startling. He was comfortable with Merlin's magic, but he didn't know these people and their allegiances. Who knew what dark magic they were toying with. The doors that opened by themselves were particularly concerning. A security issue, in his opinion. The 'spinning ones' proved to be more challenging, capturing him in its eternal spiral at one point.

He really needed to find Merlin.

* * *

The day had been going quite normally for Merlin, and had consisted of his usual trip downtown to retrieve some groceries that he could not grow himself. Now, he was making his way back to his home, silent as usual. He didn't have much to say any more. He preferred to listen. You could pick up a lot more about people if you just listened. He wished he had listened more, back then.

He heard the usual things. Discussions about family. Death, what happened last week on Doctor Who. The usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just normal old London. Content, he made his usual path past the café he always stopped by for tea at, where two women were currently deeply engaged in conversation at the outside table.

"Did you see that guy a few blocks back? He was taking cosplaying way too seriously."

_…_ _Odd_ , he thought. But not that strange. It was London, after all. He kept on walking.

"The one with the cape?"

He slowed his pace.

"Yeah, that was him. I mean, really, threating a car with a sword and accusing everything of magic. Bit extreme."

He came to a stop.  _…. It couldn't be. Could it? …it's been so long_.

"It was a bit scary actually. He kept asking everyone for Merlin. He looked kind of frenzied. Maybe he was on something…"

Merlin whirled around, facing the two women, eyes wide. "Where?" he demanded. "Where did you see this?" He was met with wide eyes, cautious and ready to dial 999 if necessary. He shook himself off, trying to calm himself. "Sorry, sorry. He's a friend. An actor. Gets pretty method sometimes, unless someone intervenes."

The older of the two stared a second longer before finally blinking, hand leaving the phone resting on the table. "Uh, down a few blocks, where the Lake shops are. You won't miss him. Trust me."

Merlin wasted no time, muttering a quick thanks before bolting. He prepared himself for disappointment. That it was just a really dedicated cosplayer or street performer. A trick of the light, another face in the crowd. It had happened so many times before.

_…_ _But this seems different. This feels like magic._

Hoping beyond hope, he ran on, past slow walking people, dogs, stores and more. He even passed over crosswalks without looking for traffic. A stupid thing to do, really. It would be quite an ironic twist of fate if he were to die only when Arthur returned. He had had enough of fate and destiny. He just wanted to see Arthur again.

And, not another moment later from this thought, he did.

There, just a few meters away, for the first time in over 1,500 years, was Arthur.

The clot hadn't noticed him yet, despite the significance of the moment. Instead, he was engaged in threatening a tv display with his sword, demanding it surrender the tiny people inside of it with 'whatever magic it was using.' He shouldn't have expected anything less.

He found his voice caught in his throat, unable to say anything, and unable to move. Frozen. He was really there, after all this time. Alive, uninjured, and very much King Arthur Pendragon. He looked the same as he did before he was killed. Golden-haired, armoured and a bearing a noble expression. It was hard to believe that he hadn't seen that face, or at least the side of it, for almost two thousand years. Yet, he was seeing it.

Finally, after what seemed an age, he found the courage to speak. "Arthur!" he called.

Arthur turned at the sound of his name, looking for who had called it. After some wide-eyed searching, Arthur's eyes fell on him. Blue, alive and seeing eyes. He had forgotten how blue they were. Next came the smile, that bright and wonderful smile. "Merlin! There you are!" He sheathed his sword, already making his way towards him. "Why are you dressed like that? Where's Morgana? Why does everything look so strange? What kind of magic do you suppose this is?-"

He hugged him.

He couldn't help it. It was the only thing he could think to do. The only thing he wanted to do. So that's what he did. They had never hugged much before, so he supposed now was a good time to make up for that.

Arthur spluttered, not quite returning the hug. “Merlin? What- what are you doing? What's going on?"

Merlin pulled back from the embrace, aware of watching eyes. They probably thought this was some sort of re-enactment. "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here," was the only explanation he gave him.

Arthur followed him somewhat easily for once. Of course, the questions didn't stop, and he had to pull Arthur away from pretty much everything he saw. Clothing that was apparently too short, funny looking dogs, bicycles. Everything really. It proved quite difficult getting Arthur to his house. But alas, he managed it.

Settled inside the house, he set Arthur down on the couch, leaving him to scan the room in wonder while he put the groceries away.

"What is this place?" Arthur asked from the living room, ever curious.

Finished, Merlin made his way into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to his friend, preparing for a bombshell of questions. "It's my home, Arthur."

Arthur stared, "You live here?"

"Yes, you clotpoll, and I have, for a very long time."

"How? You live in Camelot. I know you do," reasoned Arthur, smiling nervously.

He drew a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come. "That was over 1,500 years ago, Arthur."

Arthur's smile fell, replaced by a deep frown, "What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."

"You died, Arthur."

And so, he explained. Everything. From the moment Arthur had died to the moment he had run into him. He talked about the waiting, the grief, Camelot, and how they passed into legend. At the end of his recount, Arthur simply sat, deep in thought.

After a while, he spoke. "You waited, all this time, for me?"

Merlin swallowed, shaky, "Yes. For you, always."

Arthur spoke no more. Instead, he simply nodded and pulled him in for an embrace.

Merlin could have cried. In fact, he probably was. He wrapped his arms around Arthur tightly, holding him close in case he disappeared. "I missed you," he managed to say, burying his face against Arthur's shoulder. Arthur nodded, doing the same; whispering apology after apology.

They stayed like that for a while, content in each other's presence. That was, until Arthur, apparently, had a thought. "Merlin, what's a cosplayer?"

Merlin snorted, "Arthur, you're going to love this place."


	2. When Albion's Need is Greatest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin isn't sure he can wait anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin or its characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> Note: this chapter is based on a Tumblr Post Idea. Also I write these at 3AM so excuse the typos.
> 
> Please, enjoy.
> 
> WARNING: Angst/Suicidal thoughts/attempt

 

 

'When Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.' That was what Kilgharrah had told him. He had given him hope that Arthur would return on day. To Albion. To him. He had given him hope that when disaster struck, Arthur would rise form that lake, large as bloody life, and save them all.

It never happened.

Merlin could only conclude that the great dragon had lied. Or was wrong. He didn't care. All he knew was that Arthur wasn't coming back. Ever.

He had waited centuries by that lake. Centuries. Long after Gwen's rein had ended, he had gained a reputation as 'the hermit', the 'boy that never aged' and 'the warlock'. Among other things. Nobody really knew he was, but after a while, people began to notice that 'the boy that never aged' was by the lake, still a young man, even though their grandparents had spoken of him.

He had been hunted once, called a demon and a monster. It had nothing to do with his magic, just the fact that he had eternal youth. It was unnatural. From then on, he had learnt to leave every forty years or so and travel somewhere far away. He had been to so many places, and seen so many things. He always ended up back at the lake. Waiting.

As the centuries went on, more and more of magic disappeared. The dragons went first, not long after Arthur had. Then came the creatures; unicorns, trolls and fairies. All gone. Dead. Passed into legend and myth, as he had. Then went Albion and its kingdoms, including Camelot. Destroyed, renamed or claimed by other lands. He had thought Arthur would return for that, as Albion had been on the brink of destruction.

He never came.

Soon, he was all that was left of magic. No more warlocks or witches, druids or dragons. Just him. He wasn't even sure if Avalon was still there. If it wasn't, neither was Arthur.

Every time a major world even happened, he wondered. Was this the time? Would he return? Would he see him again? The answer was always no. So passed the French Revolution, civil wars, the fall of empires, wars and disputes. When the first world war had occurred, he had wondered if that would be what brought him back, to end the violence. He thought the same for the second. The violence always went on.

That was probably what made him believe that Arthur wasn't coming back, planting the seed of doubt.

Yet, he still waited. Maybe for Arthur, maybe for death. He wasn't sure.

He had made a few friends, along the way, but he never let himself get to close once he realised he didn't age. He couldn't handle any more hurt.

Yet, now and then he let himself get attached to someone, and he wondered if that hole in his soul would be filled. It never was, they always passed on, leaving him to his lonely lake.

The only thing that would help was Arthur, and that was never going to happen.

Yet, he waited. Maybe out of boredom, maybe out of nostalgia for a time long passed. Certainly not for Arthur. Not anymore.

He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. How much more loneliness he could endure. He knew the waiting wouldn't end, as was his curse. At first, he had thought his immorality was due to having to wait the long way around to reunite with Arthur. Now, he thought it due to failing his destiny. With no Arthur to unite Albion, and no Albion to be united, he was left out of time, like a ghost with unfinished business.

Was that what he was? A ghost? Doomed to an eternity of mulling over his own failures; never able to rest. He supposed so.

Unless of course, he did end it. End himself.

The idea had crept into his mind a few centuries back. Back when he still had some hope for Arthur's return. He had always pushed it aside, telling himself that he just needed to hold on a little longer. A thousand years longer.

It wasn't as if he wished to die. He just wanted the waiting to end. It wasn't just Arthur's absence. It was the lack of purpose, of drive. There was no escape from it. He had tried finding a new purpose, becoming engaged in world events and development. Helping where he could. It never really felt like it amounted to anything anymore. More death and violence always came, sometimes because of him. He was trapped waiting for a destiny that he could never fulfil, a friend he would never see again.

In the end, it got the better of him. He had had enough. He wanted it to end. No more death, no more disappointment; no more waiting.

And so, Merlin, the last remaining piece of Albion, found himself at the edge of the lake. Up to his knees in the water. It was late in the afternoon, when the sun was disappearing and the wind moved the Lake ever so slightly.

He didn't mind dying. He had lived so long already. Too long.

He made his way deeper into the lake, eyes fixed forward, water ever rising higher and higher. Eventually, he could no longer touch the bottom of the Lake, and he was treading water, making his way further out of the lake. He didn't really feel anything emotional. Just the cold bite of the water as he let himself begin to sink.

Water enveloped him as he sank, greeting him into eternity. After a moment, he found his lungs burning inside him, fighting to take air in. Eventually, he couldn't hold out any longer, and he gasped, lungs desperate for air. Instead, he got a chest full of cold, murky water.

He wondered if he would see Freya, or the sword. Maybe even Arthur. He knew he didn't have much longer, his chest convulsing as he suffocated. His head was throbbing, and he felt himself weakening. He prepared himself to let go, to finally be at peace. It wouldn't be much longer.

As he was begging to slip into unconsciousness, he felt something odd. A pulling sensation. Something was pulling him. No downward, like he might expect. But upwards. Something, or more likely someone, was pulling him upwards towards the surface. He was vaguely aware of a pressure on his chest, which he assumed was an arm. He wanted to fight, to pull away from whoever had decided to intervene. He didn't want to be saved. But he didn't have the strength to fight. He barely had the strength to stay conscious.

Yet, he found himself breaching the surface of the water, flush against someone's chest so he faced the sky as they pulled him back to shore. His body was trying to expel the water from his lungs, now able to take in air. He felt himself falling into unconsciousness, but somehow, he didn't. Maybe his body wasn't ready to give up, even if he was.

After a few more moments, he was dragged up the grassy shore and pushed onto his side. His body forced him to cough and splutter, expelling whatever water was still inside him, making room for air as whoever his rescuer was kept a firm hand on his back.

When he was done, he felt an overwhelming surge of anger. Rage, more accurately. He didn't want this; he didn't want to be saved. Furious, he forced himself stumbling to stumble to his feet, turning to face whoever his rescuer was to give them a piece of his mind.

He saw blonde, wet hair. Blue, frightened and concerned eyes. Drenched armour. Arthur.

It was Arthur.

He felt his knees weaken, shocked and confused. Arthur guided him to the ground, hands on his shoulders.

"Merlin, what the hell were you doing?"

Merlin. Arthur said his name. Arthur was speaking. He hadn't heard his voice for so long, but it was so familiar it was hard to believe he had forgotten. It was all too much. He didn't even think about the question he was asked. All he could do stare.

Arthur, eyes still wide, gripped his shoulders tighter, almost nervously, "Merlin, are you alright?"

He shook his head, lump in his throat and his eyes sore. "You're back," he managed to say, voice breaking.

Arthur nodded, still not letting go, "I'm back."

He felt a sudden spark of anger igniting inside him, and he pushed Arthur's chest weakly. "Why now? Why bloody now, Arthur?" he shouted, tears finally falling. He drew a shaky breath, "I waited so long."

Arthur swallowed, eyes red, "I know. I know, and I'm so sorry. I've watched every moment."

He whole body was shaking from shock, "I still don't understand how you're back?"

Arthur shook his head, "I don't either. But I'm here." Arthur pressed his forehead against his own, far more gently then Merlin would have thought possible. "But you almost weren't."

Merlin said nothing.

"You tried to drown, Merlin."

He pulled away, looking Arthur in the eye. "There was nothing left for me, Arthur. No magic, no you, no Albion."

Arthur pulled him back, this time into an embrace. They were both shaking. Maybe from the cold, maybe from emotion. "There was still Albion," Arthur said quietly. Unusually quietly.

"You are a part of Albion. I think that's why I've been sent back."

He shook his head, "I don't understand, what are you saying?"

Arthur pulled back a little so they could see each other's faces, "you said you had given up. You had given up. You tried …you tried to die Merlin."

He looked down at the ground, hurting, "I know."

"Merlin, when did the great dragon say I would return?"

He stared, unsure where this was going. "When Albion's need is greatest –but Arthur, so much has happened. So much evil and destruction. But you didn't come."

"None of that was Albion. You are all that's left of Albion, of magic. You have been holding on for so long, Merlin." Arthur drew a deep breath, cupping his cheek for a fraction of a second, "until you couldn't hold on anymore. You are all that's left of Albion, Merlin, and I think now is when your need is greatest."

Not able to do anything else, Merlin began to sob.

He cried so much. More than he had since the day Arthur had left; It was only fitting that the time he cried even more was the time that Arthur returned. At some point, he had ended up slumped against Arthur, tears falling freely. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. It felt like relief, anger, joy, happiness and grief all at once. All the tears and emotion he had been building up over the centuries had finally made their escape, bringing with it a tidal wave of tears.

He knew Arthur was crying too. He could feel his tears against his skin, the lake water long since dried. It was all so much to take in. Yet, he found he wasn't worried about anything else. Not about what this meant for Albion, or his destiny, or his past. Arthur was back, and that was all that he cared to think about for the moment.

And for the first time in a very long time, he didnt have to wait anymore.


	3. Don't Worry, I'll be Back Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin or its characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> This chapter has been inspired by Supernatural's Mystery Spot
> 
> Please, enjoy.

Arthur was gone. The boat had burnt away as it sailed across the lake. Merlin stayed by the lake a long while after that. Just thinking. He had a lot to think about. Failure, grief, destiny. What he was going to tell Gwen. The fate of magic. It felt as if he had just destroyed all hope for magic to be accepted, and Albion united.

With nothing left but his thoughts, Merlin finally left the lake. He didn't go straight back to Camelot, not wishing to face Gwen, and the Knights, and tell them how he had failed. Instead, he wondered the outskirts of the kingdom, not really having any destination in mind, or any goal. He just thought to himself, stuck in his own mind.

The kingdom was tense. Only just having emerged from the desolation of war. People eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was friend or foe. Most were just burying their dead, or sorting the houses out of the rubble. A lot had been burnt down over the last few months. Everybody had lost so much; he wasn't alone in that.

Eventually, after a week or so, he decided that it was time to return to Camelot. Rumours about would begin to spread if he waited any longer. So, not really having a choice, he made his way back to Camelot. It wasn't particularly far, no more than a few days walk. When the castle's turrets finally came into view, crimson flags billowing in the wind, he didn't feel the usual sense of happiness.

Now, only grief.

Still, he made his way through the castle gates with relative ease. Guards knew him on sight by this point, and just assumed he had access to all areas of the castle, whether Arthur actually permitted it or not.

Life seemed relatively normal. The sort of normal were everybody pretends that nothing is wrong, but there is still a tension in the air. Their King was missing, or dead if they had come to believe that to be true.

Quite suddenly, he was pulled from his observations when he felt himself slam into something solid. He was almost knocked back from the force. "Could you slow down a little?" he barked, dusting himself off.

"I was thinking maybe you could watch where you were going?"

He looked up with a start. " _Gwaine?"_

Gwaine smiled warmly, "yours truly."

Merlin gaped, "you were dead! Everybody said you were dead!"

"I know, I bloody well felt it as well. But luckily, death couldn't take me. Much too powerful for that. Just unconscious."

Merlin studied him. He looked pale, thin. His skin was somewhat gaunt and his hair unkempt. He would still undoubtedly be considered handsome, however. Yet, he looked like he had battled a dragon and only been spared from death because it got bored and left.  _Torture_ , he reminded himself.  _He has been tortured._   _With Magic._ "Are you alright, Gwaine? Really?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

Gwaine smiled weakly, "All in one piece, Merlin. Percival made sure of that. And as you can see, I am up and walking." He gave an attempt at an overly dramatic bow. "You, however, are if a lot of trouble, my friend."

He felt himself pale. There where so many things that he could be 'in trouble' for. Magic. Arthur. Leaving. Anything.

His sudden anxiety was calmed when Gwaien let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Calm yourself, Merlin. Gwen wants to talk to you, that's all. Though I suppose that is quite terrifying. I saw you come into the castle, so I thought I would let you know."

Fear returned to him. Gwaine may not be concerned, but he certainly was. Not for what the consequences of informing Gwen the horrible truth, but the grief and guilt that came with it.

Yet, he had to what must be done. It wasn't fair to Gwen to keep her in the dark. And so, he nodded his thanks to Gwaine, and made his way to find the Queen.

* * *

Gwen found him before he found her. He shouldn't have expected anything less. Gwen didn't miss a thing. If she had been looking for him, news of his return would have reached her ears in under an hour.

She wasn't dressed in a black gown, like he had expected. Which told him she didn't know, or didn't believe. Instead, she was dressed in the elegant, purple gown she often liked to wear, hair ever immaculate.

He bowed his head at her approach, the overwhelming need to show respect to her overcoming him with the knowledge of the news he was about to inform her.

He almost flinched in surprise when she embraced him warmly, more like a friend then a Queen. He always liked that about her; she hadn't developed a sense of self-importance and elitism since she'd become Queen. Certainly, she behaved regally and ruled with confidence and firmness, but she was still the kind-hearted, gentle Gwen that she had always been.

She pulled away first, a welcoming smile on her face. "Where have you been, Merlin?" she asked, hands on his shoulders, "you disappeared before the battle. We thought you were dead. Arthur is having-"

He interrupted, shaking his head, "Gwen, Arthur-"

"Arthur has been on another rampage through the kingdom, looking for you. He's been convinced you would show up eventually. He's about to extend his search to the outside the Kingdom-"

"What? Gwen, Arthur's… King Arthur is dead."

Gwen stared at him with her warm brown eyes, confusion evident. "What earth are you talking about? I spoke to him not five minutes ago. He's in his chambers now, resting like I ordered."

This time, Merlin stared, unable to respond.

Gwen smiled sympathetically, "I suggest you go talk to my husband before he decides to go on a one-man quest looking for you. Again."

Merlin could only nod, not really knowing what else to do. He watched as Gwen strode gracefully away.  _Had she gone mad? Was that even possible? Was the grief to much for her? Have I gone mad? Is it magic?_

He pushed the thoughts aside. There was only one way to find out what was going on.

And so, he found his feet carrying him to Arthur's chambers.

* * *

Merlin had never been more relieved, frightened, confused and suspicious in his entire life. Which was quite a feat, considering all things. He had opened the door to Arthur's chambers, not quite knowing what to expect, only to find Arthur sitting at his writing desk, deep in thought.

Before he had time to react, Arthur looked up, presumably at the sound of the door opening. He all but leapt out of his chair, striding towards him and looking positively furious. "You better have a bloody good explanation to this, Merlin. I was dying. I know I was. I heard you crying my name. I died by that lake. Yet  _somehow_ , I woke up by the lake, completely uninjured."

"-Arthur?"

Arthurs face remained angered, "I know you used magic to save me, Merlin. You brought me back somehow."

Despite all things, Merlin felt the overwhelming need to throw something at Arthur. It was all too much. He threw his hands in the air, "I didn't do a thing, Arthur! I wanted to, but I couldn't. You were dead!  _I_ _burnt you in a boat!"_

"That sounds like something!"

Merlin couldn't believe the idiot before him. "How would burning you in a boat bring you back to life?!"

" _Magic?!"_

"That's not how magic works, Arthur!"

Arthur stared at him with a perplexed expression, "Well then how do you suppose I got here then?"

"You sound like you're disappointed to be alive," he retorted, "do you want me to send you back?"

"Merlin, this is serious. I want to know how I am here, alive."

Merlin drew a deep breath, moving to sit down on the bed, trying to calm himself. "Maybe you're a wraith?" He didn't really like suggesting that, because saying it recognised that it was a possibility. Arthur not being a pile of ash at the bottom of a lake seemed too good to be true.

Arthur sat down beside him, "how do we know If I'm a wraith?"

He ran a hand through his hair, "we'll have to do some tests."

"Okay."

He drew a breath, "with magic."

A pause.

"Okay."

* * *

It seemed too good to be true. Arthur had passed his 'tests'. He wasn't a wraith. He wasn't a ghost. He wasn't a monster toying with them all.

He was just Arthur. Stupid, kind, pompous Arthur. Alive, and uninjured.

What this meant he wasn't quite sure, just like he wasn't sure how Arthur was even back. He didn't really care. He could worry about that later.

In the meantime, he attempted to resume normal life in the castle. The other knights had all expressed their relief that he had not, in fact, died in a gruesome and horrible way. Gwain was recovering physically as well, which was something.

Much had changed in the castle, however. Morgana was dead. So was Mordred. Their threat was no longer present in the kingdoms mind, and most importantly, his mind. Though he deeply missed the time when Morgana and Mordred had been kind and just, the relief that they would no longer be usurping the Kingdom was amazing. The only thing threatening Arthur was assassins, dark magic and his own stupidity. Just the usual.

The biggest change, however, was between his friendship with Arthur. He had revealed his magic. There was no way around it. Arthur knew, and he certainly hadn't forgotten. They didn't speak of it for a few days, until one morning while he was serving breakfast, he dropped a bowl of fruit onto the floor. The contents had gone everywhere, and he had desperately scrambled to grab them all before they disappeared into the abyss that was the underneath of Arthur's bed. That was when Arthur had said the impossible.

"You can use your magic, Merlin."

He looked up, wondering If he had misheard, "Sire?"

"Your magic, you can use it," Arthur said, hesitantly looking him in the eye, "I don't mind."

After a few moments of hesitance, he swallowed, nodding. He raised his hand, knowing his eyes were flashing gold. With barely any effort, the fruit floated gracefully to their place in the bowl, now set firmly on the table.

He looked back to Arthur, expectant for some sort of response. Not praise. Certainly not praise.

Arthur stared at the bowl for a while, thinking. He looked unsure. Merlin didn't blame him. Up until recently the only magic he had known was that used by those who wished him and those he loved harm.

He imagined it was hard, looking at magic being used for mundane, harmless tasks, not great acts of evil.

After a little bit longer, Arthur stood, finally looking at him. He drew a deep breath, "I don't mind if you practice your magic around me, if you wish too."

He said nothing, sensing that Arthur wasn't finished.

"I would understand if you don't trust me not to react poorly, but I want you to know that you can practice as you will around me. Safely."

Merlin had never thought he would hear those words. Not even when he had revealed his magic when Arthur was on the brink of death. Not even then. Yet, Arthur had said them. Magic wasn't legal, but Arthur trusted him. For the moment, it was enough. He didn't even feel the need to tell Arthur that he had always practiced magic around him. What was important was now he could do so with Arthur's knowledge, not in secret.

So, he hugged his friend, for the first time since he had died. Arthur tensed momentarily, before returning the embrace somewhat awkwardly.

"Thank you, Arthur."

If he hadn't been paying attention, he might have missed how Arthur hugged him just a little bit tighter before breaking the embrace, returning to the safety of his pompous persona.

"Don't you have chores to do, Merlin," he said, resuming his seat at his desk.

Merlin bowed, somewhat patronisingly, "of course _, Sire_."

Though Arthur didn't know it, Merlin didn't miss the small smile that pulled at the corner of the Kings' lips.

* * *

Everything went relatively smoothly for the next few months. Arthur ruled with Gwen. The knights recovered under Gaius' supervision. Though he didn't practice magic in front of the knights, he began to do so in front of Arthur more and more often. At first, he had been a bit hesitant, only doing so when Arthur wasn't quite looking. He grew more confident as the days went on, until using his magic in front of Arthur became as casual as the rest of his behaviour around the King. At first it had just been opening the curtains, carrying Arthur's belongings or getting a fire going. Then he began to incorporate magical use into his daily teasing of Arthur. He had sort of always done that, but now he did it with Arthur knowing full well what he was up to. Just the other day when Arthur was being annoying, he made sure that later that day during a council meeting, Arthurs crown would slip down over his eyes whenever he attempted to be dramatic.

The funny thing was, Arthur never told him to stop his teasing. He just gave him more chores or an attempt at a witty one liner- which never worked.

So, all in all, everything was going well.

Until Arthur got himself poisoned.

* * *

Merlin was beside himself. He had Arthur back, after weeks of thinking him dead, and everything had been fine. Now he was gone again. Just like that. Dead. All because he had let his guard down and hadn't paid enough attention. It hadn't even been a feast. Just Arthur's normal dinner. Nothing had seemed amiss. Gwen was away on business. He had served the food like he always did, left to do some last-minute errands before bed, then returned to see Arthur convulsing on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth.

He had dedicated his life to making sure Arthur didn't die, and he had failed. Twice. It hadn't seemed real. How could it have been? He had been expecting an assassination attempt to happen, of course. Arthur was King, and not everybody was happy was that. But he had expected it to be at a feast, or during a gathering or tournament, like had always been the case. Not poisoned ham and drink on a nice Tuesday evening.

But there he was. Dead on the floor, pale and staring with only the moonlight giving his eyes any light. He had done everything he could to try and save him. Everything. In the end he had nothing left in him but tears. He had cried onto Arthur for hours, begging him to wake up. He never did.

Sometime past midnight, he pulled himself away from Arthur and collapsed against the edge of the bed. He didn't move from that spot, leaning against the bed, well into the early morning hours. He didn't sleep either. He just stared, blank expression, at Arthur's lifeless body. Feeling more empty inside than ever before, which he had not possible.

Eventually, just before the sun began to rise, he felt his eyes grow heavy, and was no longer able to resist the need to close them. So, rather against his will, he closed his eyes and prepared to sleep.

* * *

 

"Merlin? Can you hear me? Something strange has happened."

Arthur. Arthur was talking to him.

His eyes shot open.

Dried blood was smeared around Arthur's mouth, and his hair was tussled, but he was defiantly not dead.

He felt a bit faint, and his head had begun to spin. He pressed his hand to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought off the spikes of pain that came with the dizziness. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Something like this didn't just happen twice.

Regaining some focus, he opened his eyes again, and found that he was not dreaming. Though, he felt hallucination was still on the table for explanations.

Arthur was looking at him nervously, "what's wrong with you?"

He shook his head, another wave of nausea swallowing his senses. He winced, "can't think." He tried to pull himself up, feeling desperate for some open space.

He managed to get onto his feet and a few steps to the door before the world suddenly went sideways.

* * *

 

His head felt like it was splitting. That was the first thing Merlin noticed when he regained consciousness. The next that he was in Arthur's bed. Then that Arthur, absent of any blood, was sitting in the chair next to him, hands clasped together under his chin. He seemed to be looking in his direction, but not at him, obviously deep in thought.

He pushed himself up, bewildered. "Arthur?"

Arthur jolted, eyes becoming clear. "Merlin! Good, you're awake. You almost broke your nose falling on the floor!"

Merlin ignored him, thoughts on more important matters. "You're alive again?" He had been certain he was hallucinating.

Arthur frowned, "don't sound so disappointed."

"You were poisoned! You coughed up your own blood!"

Arthur looked vaguely insulted, "I was stabbed with a sword last time."

"There shouldn't be a last time Arthur! You should be dead!"

"I am well aware, Merlin. But as you can see, I am not," he gestured to himself matter-of-factly as he said this. "I was going to ask you if you had any ideas as to why this is, but you fell on your face like a new born foal."

Merlin ran his hands over his face, trying to somehow process all this. "Do you remember anything?"

Like he expected, Arthur shook his head. "Not a thing."

Arthur nodded, "right."

"That's it? You don't have any other ideas."

"Not yet. So for the future, please stop dying. You're actually going to drive me mad from stress."

"In that case, ill do it again."

He punched him in the shoulder, "I'm serious Arthur."

"Right, right. Sorry. I promise will not die until I am old and grey."

* * *

Arthur did die again before he was old and grey. In a training exercise, actually. Merlin had turned his back to retrieve a shield, and not a moment later he turned to see Arthur lying flat on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on his head. Above him was a frozen squire, staring down at the King in absolute shock, mace hanging loosely from his hand.

Arthur was carried to Gauis' chambers, and was determined dead not long after. Gauis expressed how sorry he was, and embraced Merlin for a good long while, before leaving Merlin to say his farewells.

The funny thing was, Merlin wasn't all that concerned. In fact, he had even told Gaius not to tell anyone the King was dead, and just that he was unconscious, with no explanation as to why other than, "you'll see soon, probably."

If he was right in his predictions, there was a definite pattern in Arthur's dying habits. If not… well he would deal with that later. For now, he let himself hope, and simply sat by Arthur's bed.

Waiting.

As he expected, no less than half a day later, Arthur sat bold upright in the cot, panting heavily. He turned to face Merlin, red-faced and embarrassed. He pointed at Merlin firmly, " _do not_  tell the knights that I was killed by a squire. I'll never hear the end of it."

Merlin, relieved, allowed himself to laugh. "I think they would be more concerned with the 'killed' aspect of the story."

Arthur shook his head, eyes very serious. "Trust me, Merlin. They would care more about the squire bit. Trust me."

Merlin, not for the first time, questioned the intellectual levels of the Knights of the Roundtable.

He feared for the safety of the Kingdom.

* * *

The next time it happened, was quite unfortunately during the middle of the day, in the middle of the castle. With lots of people watching.

Nothing was wrong. Nobody had tried to kill Arthur, accidentally or otherwise. He just sort of tripped over.

Down the stairs.

Merlin remembered it quite clearly. He had been walking with Arthur, listening to Arthur drawl on about training and the points he had discussed in the latest council meeting when Arthur had stumbled.

He wasn't quite certain that Arthur had tripped on anything other than air, but he had fallen face first down the stairs like an ungraceful donkey. It had been quite funny really.

Then, of course, he realised that Arthur wasn't moving. At all. He naturally assumed the worse. Other servants had already gathered around the King, covering their mouths in despair. Sir Leon had joined them too, staring down at his King in absolute shock.

Deciding to intervene before Leon told Gwen, Merlin followed Arthur's path down the stairs without making a fool of himself, and came to stand by Arthur's body. He had stared down disappointedly at him, tutting. "What an idiot."

Leon turned his head to look at him in absolute shock. Presumably because of his lack of concern. Calling Arthur an idiot wasn't out of the ordinary.

He crossed his arms, shaking his head, "don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Arthur is dead!"

Merlin pouted, shaking his head. "Don't think so. Just knocked out. Happens a lot really. He just doesn't want you to know. Reputation and all."

With that, not wanting to further explain, he managed to convince Leon to use one of his freshly washed sheets to make a sort of sling. They hauled Arthur up the stairs and back to his chambers. All the while Merlin reassuring pass-buyers that nothing was amiss and this was perfectly normal and acceptable behaviour.

He wasn't sure how convincing he was.

Eventually, right on time, and long after Leon had left, Arthur once again shot up from his bed.

Not turning to face him, Arthur drew a deep breath. "Did I-"

"Yes."

"Down the stairs?"

"Yep."

"Don't ever speak of this, Merlin."

"The whole castle saw you, Arthur."

Arthur collapsed back down onto the bed. "Merlin, do me a favour. Kill me again."

* * *

The biggest challenge in Merlin's life had once been the difficulty of keeping Arthur safe from death and harm whilst simultaneously keeping his magic a secret, but had quickly become the constant struggle to prevent others from knowing of Arthur's reoccurring deaths.

The problem was not Arthur dying any more, but explaining how Arthur managed to brush off stab wounds to the heart, blows to the head and falls from extreme heights. He also had a bit of trouble explaining why he was so calm whenever Arthur suffered any form of injury, when he had once turned into a 'mother hen' as they say. He had begun faking concern in some instances.

Though, he still felt a spike of fear whenever something happened.  _Will this be the last time? Will, I see him alive again?_  Those thoughts scared him, so he often pushed them away into the back of his mind.

But he could no longer ignore the most pressing thought. Question, more accurately. 'Why did Arthur keep returning from the dead?' He had been mulling over that question since the mace incident. There had to be some explanation.

He believed that he had finally figured out a plausible theory. The only thing left was to present the idea to Arthur at the right time. Otherwise, if his theory was correct, he would jeopardise the future of Albion.

As it would happen, he did not have to wait long for the right moment.

It was late evening, right after the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and the lights of the village began to illuminate the sky with warm yellow glows. He had been busying himself with lighting a fire in the hearth in the inn room they were staying in, poking at the wood in an attempt to get the sparks to spread front the kindling to the wood. It wasn't going too well. The fire just wanted to stay where it was. He furrowed his brow in frustration, willing the fire to do as he wished.

"Merlin, you have magic, remember?" Arthur spoke casually from behind him.

Sometimes, even with how causal he had become with his magic, he slipped back into hiding his magic, until Arthur reminded him. He looked over his shoulder from his crouched position. Arthur was still at his desk, reading. It didn't look like he had been paying enough attention to him to see his struggle, what with the way his eyes didn't leave the parchment in front of him. 

After reassuring himself that nobody else was snooping about near the room, he looked back to the fire. He rose his hand to the flickering sparks of fire, "forbærne." The fire spread along the logs instantly, creating a warm fire in the hearth. He watched how the flames twirled so beautifully.

It was odd sometimes, looking at fire that wasn't to be used to kill his kind. Just for warmth and light. Not death. He always had an aptitude for fire-based spells, quite ironically considering all things. His fire always had a warmer, oranger glow to it than normal fire. It always burnt brighter, and longer. He watched it now, dancing along the logs.

A figure settled next to him, so quietly he almost didn't notice. Arthur. He could see is blonde hair and red tunic shirt in the corner of his eye.

They watched for a little bit, basking in its warmth together.

"Merlin?"

He hummed.

"That night …the night you told me you were a sorcerer. You turned the embers into my Sigel. Could you do that again? –It doesn't have to be the dragon."

He nodded, somewhat touched by the request. It was such an innocent bit of magic, he could hardly deny the use of it. He rose his hand once more, whispering another spell.

Slowly, the embers of the fire rose higher, forming themselves. Gradually a small falcon began to take shape, its wings beating in the air gracefully, head ever surveying the imaginary ground beneath.

"A Merlin," Arthur observed.

He hummed, watching the bird of embers hovering above the fire. He cast another spell, and the bird began to change shape. It became a dragon. Arthur's Sigel. It reared its head back, breathy a burst of embers down onto the fire below. It was a beautiful display. The Pendragon Sigil united with magic.

Now was the time to ask.

"Arthur?"

"Merlin."

"I think I know why you keep coming back?"

Arthur shifted to face him, leaning towards him slightly, "oh?"

He drew a deep breath, turning too so he could look Arthur in the eye. A part of him wanted to hold on to Arthur like he had when he revealed his magic. Like he could stop Arthur from leaving if worse came to tell. "I think you need to unite Albion."

Arthur stared at him expectantly. This wasn't news. He drew another breath, "with magic, Arthur. I think you need to unite Albion with magic, in peace."

Silence.

Arthur turned back to the fire, where the dragon was still flying, roaring in the flames. "You think I should make magic legal?" he said simply, more of a statement than a question.

He nodded slowly, "I was told it was your destiny, Arthur. To bring about a world of peace and magic, and to unite Albion through it. I believe that destiny to be true." He looked to the flames once more, "and I think to one day be at peace, you need to do this."  _And then you won't ever come back._  He didn't think he could bare saying that out loud.

"I agree."

He shook his head, "Arthur listen, I know it may be hard for you to see- wait what?"

"I said I agree." Arthur turned back to him, expression serious, "I always trust your council, Merlin. More importantly, I trust you, and your magic. My father taught me that magic was evil, without exception. And I believed him. Maybe that's why I never realised you were a sorcerer because I could never see you as evil. So I went on thinking sorcerers were only evil. But, here you are, a sorcerer and good, and my greatest friend. I can only conclude that my father was wrong about magic. About everything." He paused, bringing a hand to his shoulder, "It's time to change Camelot for the better, and I hope you can continue to guide me."

Pride. That's what Merlin was feeling in that moment. Pride that he had come so far. Pride that Arthur had become a great man than his father had ever been. He felt his eyes growing red, and his throat was welling up. He smiled through it, "of course, Arthur. Of course." He looked Arthur in the eye once more, "I am proud to be your servant, Arthur. And I will continue to be so until the day I die."

Arthur gave him a warm, lopsided smile. "Merlin?"

"Hmmm."

"Thank you."


	4. Seeing Things Clearly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns, but Merlin doesn't seem that surprised to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin or its characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I read a post somewhere with the same concept as this chapter, so just in case, this is inspired by that. :)
> 
> Please, enjoy.

 

The world had changed since he had last been in it. The air was thicker, and trees less and far between. Gone was the woods, replaced by building after building. Arthur knew he had died, and he knew he was back. Avalon was what lay in between. He wasn't sure why he had been sent back, but he had been.

And now he was all alone.

He wasn't sure he liked this new world too much. There was so much happening. Certainly, Camelot's streets had always been buzzing with life and energy, but never in such intensity that the streets of this strange place did now. Metal carts sped past at impossible speeds, while people in funny clothing rode on wheeled devices along the walking paths.

As he walked the streets, he was ever aware of the staring gazes of those he passed. He knew he stood out. Chainmail and cloaks didn't seem to hold its once practical status any more. Thin and lightweight clothing, or impractical yet flamboyant, seemed to be the style of choice.

What caught his attention, however, was the one individual amongst the hundreds and thousands that he passed who did not even spare him a second glance. Not even one. Black was his hair, and high was his ridiculous cheekbones. A thick, woollen red scarf was wrapped around his neck, contrasting his fitted blue coat.

Merlin. Merlin was here too, after all this time.

He wasn't alone after all.

Not waiting another moment for fear of losing sight of his friend in the crowd, he crossed the busy street to greet his friend. The upside to his apparently strange appearance was that anyone in his way parted immediately, making getting to Merlin all the easier.

" _Merlin!_ " he cried when he was within a few feet of his former servant. "You're here!" He smiled expectantly at his friend, gleeful to see him again.

Merlin barely acknowledged him. No more than a small glance in his direction and an even smaller smile. He didn't even stop walking. "Hello Arthur."

He was taken aback. Unsure by this reaction. It certainly confirmed that it was indeed Merlin, and that he knew who he was. But it just seemed a little …underwhelming. He wasn't sure what to make of it. "Hello? Just …hello?" he questioned carefully.

Merlin hummed softly, continuing on his path without pause, seemingly unfazed.

He raised his eyebrows for a moment, "uh, okay. Well I suppose that's fair.  _Unexpected_ , but fair."

Merlin said no more, and neither did he. He simply walked on with his friend, following him wherever he seemed so determined to go.

As it turned out, the place in question turned out to be Merlin's home. An 'apartment', with a large balcony covered in plants and vines that trailed downwards, almost to the balcony below.

Once settled, he observed Merlin's belongings with intrigue. There was clutter, lots of it. Kind of like Gaius' chambers had been. At the same time, it was organised, and everything seemed to have its own place. He had a good many books, enough to fill the bookshelf that reached from ceiling to floor. There was a sort of age to everything. New, yet ancient. He sat himself down on one of the heavily padded chairs that were long enough for four people to sit upon. "It's nice, this place."

Another hum, but no words. Merlin simply continued on with whatever it was that he was doing. Putting away 'groceries', apparently. Apart from one of these occasional 'humms', Merlin hadn't acknowledged him in the whole time they had been in his apartment. He wasn't sure he could stand it any longer.

It soon became apparent he couldn't.

He got up from the couch, boldly striding over to where Merlin was arranging the contents of the food storage area. "Merlin, why are you acting this way? You haven't said a word to me. I would have thought you would be glad to see me."

Merlin shrugged, "I was expecting it, is all."

He frowned. "Right, okay. I suppose that makes …sense?"

It didn't make sense at all.

Merlin turned to him, expression showing no indication that the prior conversation was relevant. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"A what?"

Merlin tilted his head, looking at him with a funny expression. "You know, moving picture? Tell's a story."

He was even more confused.  _Why couldn't Merlin just make some sense?_  "No. I really don't know, Merlin."

Merlin gave a long sigh before taking off for the room with the elongated chairs. "Fine, I'll show you. Again."

_Again?_

* * *

A movie, as it turned out, was Indeed a series of moving pictures that told a story. It was absolutely extraordinary. Camelot had certainly missed out. In truth, it was like magic.

He loved it.

The title of this movie was 'The Fellowship of the Ring.' It was a wondrous tale, set in a world not unlike Albion, but with far more magic. Or at least, he suspected. He asked Merlin questions every now and then that was generally along the lines of 'did we have those?' or 'can you do that?' Usually Merlin's answer was 'yes, but not anymore.'

As the movie went on, he noticed that Merlin was growing more and more drowsy. He wasn't sure why, the movie was incredibly captivating. Merlin apparently didn't think so, because at the point where the fellowship encountered some giant squid thing, Merlin had fallen fast asleep.

On his shoulder.

He didn't dare move. Merlin had never behaved like this before. Ever. They had rarely ever hugged or made contact before, unless they had been separated or under the threat of death. Other than that, physical contact was considered far too awkward and inappropriate. That apparently wasn't the case anymore. Perhaps it was Merlin's way of expressing whatever it was that was making him act so strangely. Whatever it was, he supposed he could let it continue. He didn't really mind the contact after all.  _I'm growing soft._

So, he let Merlin sleep. All through the rest of the movie. And the credits. And long after that.

Eventually, after he wasn't sure how long, Merlin began to wake. Quite groggily at that, like he hadn't slept in days. It seemed to take quite a while for his eyes to adjust, but they eventually came to focus upon him. Merlin stared for a moment, before his eyes grew suddenly wide. He pulled away, a look of confusion spreading across his face. "Oh."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "oh?"

"You're still here."

_Odd_ , he thought. "Of course I am, Merlin. Why wouldn't I be?"

Merlin gave another shrug, "usually you're gone when I wake up."

_Gone? What?_  None of this was making any sense. "What on earth are you talking about, Merlin?"

Merlin suddenly looked so very far away, eyes staring at nothing. "I really thought it was you the first time," he said quietly. "Cried for a week when you disappeared. I realised then that it wasn't real. You, I mean. You weren't real."

Arthur was getting scared now. Something was wrong, so terribly wrong. "Merlin, look at me. I'm real. Can't you see? I'm right here."

Merlin smiled weakly, "you always say that. I know better now."

Arthur wanted to shake him. To make him see sense. _Why couldn't he see?_  He took his shoulders instead, tears biting at his eyes. "Merlin, please. Listen to me. I am real. I am alive." He drew a shaky breath, pulling Merlin's hand over to his heart. "See, look. Real."

Merlin shook his head, pulling his hand away, "I know better than to fall for false hope caused by my own wishful thinking."

* * *

No matter what Arthur tried, Merlin did not believe him. His friend continued to see him as nothing more than a figment of the imagination. Something to not really acknowledge less you fall under its spell. Merlin truly believed he was not real.

It became apparent that the 'unreal' version of himself had more often than not appeared and disappeared with no apparent pattern. It had got him thinking. _How long had this been going on for? How long after his death did Merlin start seeing him? How many times had 'unreal Arthur' disappeared and reappeared for Merlin to no longer be fazed by such an anomaly?_  He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

In his quest to get Merlin to see clearly, he had reasoned and cried, then with that failing, yelled and screamed in desperation. He just wanted his friend to be freed from whatever curse had been tormenting him all these years. To prove to him that he was back, for real and for good.

Merlin never believed him. There was an invisible barrier between them, one that only Merlin could get past. If only he believed.

With no other ideas, he began trying to act as normal as possible, like nothing was wrong. He wasn't playing along with the 'unreal' concept; he was just trying to act as he had always done, and not what he thought this 'hallucination' had behaved.

If he was completely honest, the line between the two was growing blurrier with each passing day.

If only there was somebody that could confirm to Merlin that he was in fact Arthur, and very much real.

If only.

* * *

Like most Thursday evenings, Arthur waited for Merlin to return from his routine shopping trip. He always came back with all sorts of strange foods that he had never seemed before, often packaged in cardboard or plastic. These foods were often a bit too sweet for him, and he much preferred the naturally occurring food items.

Right on schedule, Merlin pushed through the front door, arms laden with bags of food. There seemed to be more bags than usual.  _Did he have a guest coming?_  That hadn't happened before. Maybe he was starting to believe him to real. His hopes were immediately crushed when, like usual, Merlin paid him no mind and headed straight for the kitchen.

What he wasn't expecting however, was for the door to be opened again by a second person. What he definitely wasn't expecting was for that person to have very familiar curly blonde hair, a tall stature and a noble expression, and to be one of the Knights of the Round Table.

It was Sir Leon. He could hardly believe it; Leon had just walked in through the door. Alive, also carrying grocery bags, and not at all centuries old.

He jumped up from the couch, completely bewildered.  _"Leon?!"_

Leon nearly jumped out of his skin, hurling the grocery bags across the room in the process. The knight stared straight at him, mouth gaping shock,  _"Arthur!?"_

Arthur smiled joyously, embracing his fellow Knight and friend, grateful for the attention. After a moment, he pulled away and held Leon at arm's length, looking him up and down. It was incredible, Leon hadn't aged a day. "You should be hundreds of years old, how are you here like this?"

Leon shook his head, mouth still agape. "I could ask you the same question."

Still amazed by whatever was happening, he answered simply, "woke up one day by a lake a month or so ago, found Merlin and have been here ever since, you?"

"I just never died. I –I think it may have been the cup of life. I realised pretty early on that Merlin also wasn't aging so we've been looking out for each other, these last few centuries."

Arthur could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he found that all he could do was laugh.

Leon however, did not laugh. In fact he frowned, a concerned expression overcoming his face. "Hang on," he said, looking quite confused, "if you've been back for over a month, why didn't Merlin say anything?"

All the joy left Arthur as quickly as it had come to him. He dropped his arms and his smile fell, face becoming solemn. He wasn't sure how to explain. "I- he doesn't..."

He trailed off, eyes moving to look over Leon's shoulder.

There, standing in the door frame, pale as death itself, was Merlin. The bags had been abandoned on the floor, apparently dropped, judging by the milk slowly spreading across the floor. Merlin paid It now mind. Instead, he looked at Leon with a look of absolute horror.

"You …you can see him too?"

* * *

Merlin's world came crashing down.

Arthur.

It was Arthur. Really, truly, Arthur. Alive, and not a hallucination. Not a dream.

Leon had said he could see him. He could see that Leon could see Arthur. They had been having a conversation with each other. You couldn't have a conversation with someone else's vision. He knew that much. Never before had Leon, or anybody, addressed Arthur. The unreal Arthur. His own personal ghost and curse.

No longer, it would seem.

He looked at his friend with a new intensity, a new focus.  _How could he not have noticed? How did he not realise?_  He knew Arthur better than anybody; though maybe that was why his hallucination was so convincingly like the real Arthur. They were one and the same. He had hallucinated Arthur so often that he hadn't even noticed when the real Arthur took its place.

Suddenly, he felt quite sick.=

_How long has Arthur been here?_

He hadn't been visited by Leon or anybody in a long while, so he couldn't base the change off that. Panicked, he thought back to all the times Arthur had appeared, desperately searching for anything that might indicate when Arthur had started being real.  _Was there anything?_

Yes. The answer was yes.

With a start of horror, he remembered how Arthur had seemed so upset by his resigned behaviour when he had appeared that day in the street. How Arthur didn't seem to know anything about the world around him. How he had screamed and shouted at him.

Oh God.  _Oh_ _God_ _…_

That had been almost two months ago.

Arthur had been back, and virtually left alone for two months in a world he didn't even understand. All because he couldn't see the truth.

_What had he done?_

* * *

'Yes.' That was all that Leon had said. Yet it had sent Merlin into a trance.

Arthur felt helpless as he watched his friend disappear inside his own mind. His eyes had grown wide with horror, yet they were unseeing. They stared right through him like he was glass. He wasn't sure what Merlin was thinking, but it was distressing him greatly.

After what felt like an eternity, but probably wasn't more than a few seconds, Merlin let out a shaky sob, clutching the door frame as he struggled to control his breathing. He looked like he was going to faint.

He reached his friend before he fell, catching him before his head collided with the doorframe. Leon followed after him, helping to guide Merlin to the living room and onto the couch. He wasn't unconscious, not yet.

"I'm sorry," Merlin managed to say, voice shaky, "I'm so sorry Arthur."

Leon took his leave, muttering a quite "I'll clean up the milk," as he left them alone.

Alone, Arthur clasped Merlin's hands in his, "No.  _No_. Don't be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry for, Merlin."

Merlin shook his head, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. "There is, There is so much to be sorry for, Arthur. You were trying to tell me and I just  _didn't_  see."

Arthur drew him into a hug, "you weren't to know Merlin. You had no reason to believe."

"I should have known."

"You do now."

They said nothing more after that, simply opting to sit with each other, enjoying finally being in each other's company with no invisible walls to divide them. After what seemed an age, Merlin sat up slightly, wiping away the tried tears in his eyes. He looked to him, a clumsy smile on his face. "You know how I know it's really you?"

He raised an eyebrow, a bit taken off guard by the sudden change of mood. "No, how?"

"The other Arthur wasn't nearly as much of a cabbage head as you are. I mean really, liking the prequels over the original Star Wars. Only a cabbage head would think so."

Arthur rolled his eyes, hugging Merlin a little bit tighter.

Some things never changed.


	5. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster strikes, and Arthur finally returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin, or any other fandoms mentioned, or their characters. I simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> This one's a short one; I thought it was time for something a little more lighthearted, but still just as cheesy. XD
> 
> Also, there is lots more to come, but if you have any requests or ideas you want me to write that I haven't done, please let me know.
> 
> As usual, enjoy!

 

 

Disaster had struck. Complete and utter disaster. Never before had something of this magnitude happened before. Though it was based in only a few places, it affected everybody. Merlin could only stand by and watch as mass media swarmed to get the latest information.

Soon, every platform was discussing what had happened, how and why. It was unprecedented. There was so much anger. So much confusion. So much grief. Nobody was left unaffected; if it didn't directly affect someone, they definably knew a person who had been utterly broken by the event.

It had left people shells of themselves. Even Merlin had been broken. Nobody knew what to do. The event had destroyed a huge part of so many people's lives, tearing what they loved from them suddenly and without hesitation. People were saying it was the end of the world. The final apocalypse.

Both, Supernatural, Doctor Who and Sherlock had been cancelled.

Forever.

In truth, Merlin had kind of seen it coming. There was only so much more they could do, only so many more seasons until they were just coming up with wild, out of the blue explanations for a continuing the plot. Though, it still hurt anyway. So very much.

Superwholock was dead.

At least they still had Game of Thrones.

* * *

Merlin stared at the screen before him, reading with horrified eyes. _Award Winning Show, Game of Thrones, to end after its eighth season. Writer, George R.R. Martin unclear about whether he will finish the book series._

Well shit. It really was the end of the world.

* * *

Disaster had caused him to rise again, Arthur knew it for certain. Only the ultimate suffering of his people would be cause for his return, as it was prophesied. At least, that was what those in Avalon had told him. He wasn't really sure if he could trust them though, they were a bit weird, and 'off with the Pixies' per say.

He wondered what could have happened to be so bad, so painful, to be enough to quite literally reawaken him from the dead. It had to be the end of times. That was the only explanation. Nothing else had caused him to rise. Not war, pestilence or famine.

Death, of something or someone, was the only option left.

The thing was, it didn't really look like the world was about to collapse at any given moment. Everything looked pretty normal. People were walking the streets; children were playing, dogs were barking. Normal things. Certainly, much of the world had changed, but he had expected that. He had been dead for quite a long time.

Perhaps it was magic, unseen until it was too late. Perhaps not?

He had found Merlin, to his great relief and utter amazement, giving him hope for some sort of explanation.

As it turns out, like usual, Merlin was absolutely useless.

Merlin, after getting over what was undoubtedly shock at his glorious presence, and not at all the fact that he was seeing his long-lost friend for the first time in over a thousand years, he burst out laughing.

Loud, hysterical laughing.

Arthur panicked, unsure how to respond to whatever hysteria his friend had been overcome by.  _Has he gone mad? Did I break him? What am I supposed to do with a broken Merlin?_

"Merlin, what is it? What could possibly be so funny about the end of times?" he asked seriously, hoping to hide the nervousness in his voice.  _Maybe I did break him._

Merlin chuckled a few last laughs, shaking his head and straightening himself up. "I can't believe it; fandom collapse brought you back from the dead. Fandom collapse was severe enough to  _warrant_  you returning. Does that mean you have to bring back Superwholock" He started laughing again, "oh god, I bet it does. Maybe we have to start our own tv show. He waved his arm in a long sweeping gesture, eyes filled with fake wonder, "I'll call it 'The Adventures of Merlin and the Prat.' I'm sure it will take off."

He had broken Merlin. Clearly he had been brought back to save Merlin from whatever insanity had befallen him. He was out of his mind, speaking complete gibberish. "What the hell is a fandom, Merlin?"

Merlin pulled him into a hug, still laughing. "You'll see, Arthur. You'll see."


	6. Beam me up, Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin never thought he would see the world go from Kings and castles to Captains and star ships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC'S Merlin, or any other fandoms mentioned, or their characters. I only own any OC’S and the chapter plots, and simply enjoy writing shenanigans about their characters.
> 
> This one's a tad longer than the rest.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Merlin couldn’t quite believe how far the world had come. 

Well, the galaxy really.

That had been a surprise. He had thought It would have taken longer for the world to go from Kings and castles to Captains and starships. Certainly not just a mere 1800 years. He would have thought at least 2000. Though he supposed he was rather old, and the world as it was today was rather new.

Over the last couple of decades, he had found himself enrolled in Starfleet, curious of the ever-expanding reality around him. Then he found himself on a Star Ship, and now, the Lt Commander of one. Not to mention Science Officer.

Now, his magic was just considered an advanced version of science. Just another branch of science that he and few others had discovered. What was it that Clarke fellow had said, ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ Seems he was right.

The funny thing was, that wasn’t the strangest thing. Though it had taken a while, and Merlin never thought it would have happened as it had, his friends from all those many years ago had come back. Reborn. Or reincarnated. He wasn’t quite sure of the science of it all, rather ironically.

By some miracle, or rather fate, they had all somehow wound up on the same starship, fittingly named the USS Camelot; the Federation’s finest space vessel. Gwen was captain, naturally. Gwain was weapons officer, which made perfect sense. Percival was communications officer and security chief, ever the protective and diplomatic one. Elyan, being the youngest, was navigation officer and Ensign. Gaius, oh how happy he had been to find Gaius again, was Chief Medical Doctor. Obviously.

Last but not least, Leon and Lancelot, the Double L’S as they were called, were the helmsman. They were pretty good at it too.

He had forgotten their faces many centuries ago, despite how he treasured his memories of them in his heart. No matter how hard he had tried all these long years, once their faces faded, he was never able to conjure them back into his mind.

Not even Arthurs.

Yet the moment he had run into Gwen at the academy, her face was once more as clear in his mind as the day he had last seen her. Soon the rest followed, their faces returning one by one to his memories.

All except one.

Arthur.

Ever faceless. Ever missing.

Merlin was certain Arthur was alive and born, wherever he was. All the others were, and right on time in terms of age difference. Still, Arthur was yet to appear. He missed him dearly, especially aboard the ship. More than ever it felt as if something was missing, especially with everyone else returned and in his life again. Perhaps he was in Starfleet now? One day to be Captain on a future mission and vessel. He reckoned Arthur would make a good Captain, like had had a King.

If he even recognised him.

Only time would tell. Like the bastard it was, forever making him wait.

The anticipation was killing him. Arthur was the final piece of the puzzle to this strange new world. If there was ever a time for Arthur to return, it was now.

Morgana was back too.

As was Mordred.

Mordred had been an Ensign once. On this very ship. Young an innocent once again. Merlin had tried to save him, stop him from turning to Morgana’s influence. Morgana had also been a Captain. Yet, she soon turned against the Federation, before Merlin even knew she was alive. He had tried to change things. He really had. But he was still too late.

Morgana had magic, and like him, she was considered a rare individual. And she thought herself superior to those without it.

And now the galaxy was at war.

So now he waited for Arthur, like he always had, and always would.

* * *

 

Sometimes Arthur still couldn’t believe how quickly it had all happened. One moment, Tarsus IV had been a peaceful colony, well on the way to developing into an established federation planet.

Then it had all gone to hell.

First, Empress Morgana had come, taking over the planet without even drawing the attention of the federation.

Then someone poisoned the food — almost all of it.

Then they starved.

Then, finally, she gave the order. That defining order.

She ordered that anyone who didn’t bare the Druid mark or gene was to be killed. Apparently only they deserved the food.  So they had all been rounded up and put into two groups. One group was to be killed. The other spared. Only those who had the proper ‘eugenics’ were in that group. Those who had made the list.

Arthur was not on that list.

So, he had run. He took as many as he could with him, hiding them wherever he could. He fought when he had too, desperate to get food for those under his protection. More often than not he had to fight to resist capture or exposure.

That had been the first time he had killed someone; felt what it was like to hold someone’s life in your hands.

Now it was just a part of the week.

Over the last year or so he had become a symbol of the rebellion. To those few that still lived. As far as he knew, he was the only one on the planet left who had actually seen Morgana’s face. Met her in person. Now it was up to him to do to keep everybody else alive.

All because they didn’t have magic.

How could someone kill an entire four thousand people, all because of something out of their control.

It was monstrous.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this before the huger killed them all. There was so little left.

Their only hope was the Federation.

If they even knew anything was wrong.

* * *

 

The Camelot was an exploration and science vessel, first and foremost. Yet, no matter what; no matter how far out into the depths of space they travelled, days would come where Merlin and the crew had to be more than that. There would be days where they would be led to fight, to gather intelligence. 

Today was one of those days.

“Captain, I’m picking up a distress signal from a nearby federation planet. Tarsus IV.”

That can’t be good. Merlin frowned, looking to Gwen, trying to read her thoughts. She was a stoic captain, and when on duty never let her face waver. Though she was no way cold or unemotional. She was strong.

Yet, distress signals from federation planets never meant anything good.

Gwen frowned, looking to Percival. “Tarsus IV is a colony planet. Are you able to detect a transmission message?”

Percival nodded. “Affirmative, Captain. Playing now.”

They waited with baited ears to hear the message and its contents. With any luck, it would be nothing more than an unregistered vessel or Mudd trying to make a sale.

Merlin knew better than put his faith in luck. Or fate, for that matter.

Finally, the transmission became discernible enough to make out words.

Panicked words.

_Help._

_Food gone._

_People killed._

_Morgana._

_Can't last much longer-_

There was nothing but static to fill the silence.

Percival spoke first,  working frantically over his Com, “I have lost the frequency, Captain. Should we hail them?”

Gwen shook her head. “Negative. If they are under an assault, we don’t want to alert the attacker of our presence. If it is Morgana, we need the element of surprise.”

This time she turned her chair so she could turn her attention to Merlin, looking up at him urgently. “Merlin, scan the planet for life forms. Report population.”

Not wasting any time, he got to work, directing the scan into detecting any possible heat or life signatures. Finding them, he couldn’t help but draw in a sharp intake of breath. There was far too few for a colony planet. And so many had magic…

Merlin didn’t need his own magic to know something bad had happened.

Swallowing, he passed Gwen his PADD. “…Sixty-two, Captain. Twelve showing signs of magical eugenics, and fifty without.”

Shaking her head, Gwen looking over the signatures, her expression growing visibly concerned. “Tarsus IV has a population has a population of over 4200. How can that be?”

He swallowed, placing a hand on his captain's shoulder, “the transmission reported that people were killed, Gwen.”

Gwen’s frown deepened, “it also said Morgana.”

Suddenly, Gwen seemed to disappear into her own mind. Merlin had known her for time lifetimes now, and was no stranger to the look. Though she looked as if she was unaware of anything going on around her, she was in fact deep in thought. Calculating.

Arthur had always done the same.

“What is the distribution of the survivors, Merlin?” Gwen asked, shaking him from his memories.

He configured the signatures locations in no time at all. “The twelve without magical eugenics are based at the outpost, along with twenty of those without magical eugenics,” he paused, frowning at what that might mean. “The other thirty are gathered together, many miles from the outpost. I think they may be trying to escape whatever is going on down there.

Nodding, Gwen directed her attention to her weapons officer. “Gwain, any ideas?”

Gwain spun around in his chair, hair flopping hopelessly onto his face. “I reckon we send a landing party down to where the separated party is, and another at the outpost. We will need to go undercover, that way we can get a closer look at what’s going on. We should maintain a near-atmospheric orbit to ensure we can beam up personal and injured quickly.”

Taking his advice, Gwen opened up a ship-wide communication. “Attention crew of the Camelot. We have received a distress signal and transmission from the Federation planet Tarsus IV. As of yet, we know that food is scarce and the majority of the population is deceased. There is reason to suspect Morgana is responsible. Shortly, we will arrive at the planet and send down two landing parties. At this time, all personnel are standby at their stations. I will alert you of this time.”

With that, Gwen shut off the Comm, rising from her Captains’ chair, ready to address the bridge specifically. “Lancelot and Percival, you will investigate the separated group and assess what their situation is. Gwain and Merlin, you will beam down to the outpost and report any intel you discover concerning magical eugenics. Understood?”

The bridge didn’t need to be asked twice. Anyone of them would give their life for Gwen, and wouldn’t dream of questioning her command without incredibly good reason.

“Understood.”

* * *

 

Morgana had not been on the planet.

At least, not anymore. They had figured that out pretty quickly. Though the aftermath of her conquest was still continuing.

Merlin had discovered that those with magical eugenics were being guarded by non-magical mercenaries under Morgana’s command, ensuring they survived, or more accurately, did not escape. It would seem that Morgana had rounded them all up, and killed the rest.

 The holding ‘paddock’, for that was what it really was, proved too risky to try an infiltrate undercover, so he and Gwain had stayed back to observe and listen, until Gwen gave them further instruction.

From what they could tell, Morgana was trying to build some sort of army. Not that her ‘recruits’ had looked particularly onboard with this idea, if they even knew. Nevertheless, the twenty that guarded them did not seem particularly well armed, and upon receiving reinforcements, the Camelot had quickly rendered them obsolete, and liberated the captured.

The sheer relief on their faces had almost been enough to break Merlin.

It was like the real Camelot, all over again. Magical individual’s once again persecuted, though this time to take advantage of their power, not destroy it.

Percival and Lancelot had meanwhile been able to locate the separated survivors. Apparently, they had been sceptical to trust the two Star Fleet officers, thinking it some sort of trap laid by Morgana to finally capture them. Proof of communication to the Camelot and Star Fleet officials had eventually convinced them.

It was soon determined that the survivors had escaped the initial genocide, retreating to the mountains for the first few months, led by the individual who had managed to send the distress signal.

Now back on board the ship, word soon reached Merlin’s ears that the leader had not only kept 29 people from death for over a year, but had intel on Morgana. He was of yet, the only individual who had seen Morgana in person, not just on a screen, and still be alive.

He must be quite the person.

 

* * *

 

Merlin was always fond of Gwen’s ready room. Unlike other starships, the table at which the crew gathered for official business was not designed so one person may sit at the head, holding power over all the others. 

No, the USS Camelot was beyond such things.

The table was round.

Merlin reckoned Arthur would have been pleased.

The crew and himself sat around it now, awaiting their guest to arrive. The leader of the survivors. He had agreed to share any intel he had on Morgana, not wishing any further harm to come to any planets ‘if he could help it’. The man had been hailed by Gwen as soon as Gaius had given the all clear that his patient’s body was rested and wounds treated.

Merlin couldn’t help but feel anticipation awaiting the man to enter through those doors, so he could see the face of the one who had faced Morgana and defied her, living to tell the tale.

He looked to the doors now, sensing someone approaching, his chest tightening the way it used to when he used his magic more frequently. It made him fidget where he sat, like a small lightning storm was thundering away inside him. When had he got so damn jittery? His magic hadn’t felt like this in centuries-

The doors opened.

A man walked inside, his battered face highlighted by the lights of the ready room, and for the first time Merlin got a good look at the survivor.

Blonde.

The man was blonde.

His eyes were blue too. So very blue.

And he knew that face.

He knew it so well he wondered how he had ever forgotten it.

Arthurs' face.

The man was Arthur.

Arthur, the man he had spent the beginning of his life with, was finally with him again.

Then Arthur’s eyes briefly met his, and they were void of all recognition.

In the moment Merlin was reminded of a painful truth. This Arthur had never seen his face before.

Merlin was a stranger to him.

 

* * *

 

There was something funny about the science officer. Throughout the whole meeting, the dark-haired had stared across the room at him, giving him far more attention than was. Expected. He never said anything directly to him though, and if he had to, he just made a vague statement to no one in particular. Even the captain had requested …Marlin? ...use more precision when speaking.

He liked the captain. She was strong and spoke her mind, which Arthur always admired in a person. 

Yet, the strange science officer was now the forefront of his thoughts. There was something about him that Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on. He certainly fitted the stereotype for science officers though, from what he had heard. 

Strange. Quite, yet so very loud in other ways. Obviously intelligent, yet awkward. That is if the constant staring was anything to go by.

Though, the officer held a strange look of recognition and familiarity in his eyes, like he had known Arthur sometime before. But Arthur had never seen the man before in his life.

It was rather unnerving.

He tried to avoid the man entirely over the next forty-eight hours. Of course, that went exactly as he should have expected.

Terribly.

He had been quickly making his way back to his temporary quarters when the buffoon had stumbled right into him when they both simultaneously rounded the same corner. The impact had almost knocked Arthur to the floor, but the idiot to blame caught him by the arm before it had happened.

The contact had made him jump out of his skin. Being attacked out of nowhere was a situation far too familiar with on Tarsus.

“Sorry, sorry,” his ‘rescuer’ apologised, looking like he was trying to stop himself from attempting to hold his arms again.

Arthur dusted himself off, saying nothing as he glared up at the man. What was this guy’s problem?

The officer in question raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe next time look where you’re going? These halls can get pretty busy you know,” he said, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Arthur quickly scanned the surrounding hallways, finding no one. He too raised an eyebrow. “Here I was under the impression you were following me.”

The man gestured to a scattered pile of sample boxes on the ground that Arthur hadn’t noticed until now. “Actually,” he said. “I had been planning on dropping these off at the labs before you went ahead and ploughed right through me, you dolt.”

Arthur couldn’t believe it. Did he speak to everybody like this? He straightened himself up. He had dealt with far worse than this broom sick of a person. “Look, Marlin-“

“Merlin.”

What kind of a name is that? “ _Merlin_ ,” he corrected. “I don’t know if you’re thick in the head, or have me confused with some other person. But I’m not whoever you think I am-“

Merlin raised his hands defensively, “sorry, sorry. You're right,” he said slowly. “I know, I haven’t met you before. I didn’t mean to stare; it’s just that …well you reminded me of someone.”

Arthur watched as Merlin’s eyes grew sad, the bright gleam they had held a moment before suddenly gone. “And who is this person?”

Merlin smiled sadly, “someone I lost a long time ago.”

Oh. Arthur knew that feeling. He knew it well. Someone hesitantly, he reached out and squeezed the man’s shoulder. “I – I’m sorry. I know how it feels to lose someone you care about.”

Merlin’s eyes met with his for a moment, and Arthur couldn’t help but take in how much kindness they held; how sad they were.

Taking a decisive breath, Arthur held out his hand.

Merlin looked down at the offering, looking a little confused.

Arthur offered a smile, “I don’t believe we ever properly introduced each other.”

Merlin chuckled, offering his own hand. “No, we haven’t.”

Arthur took his hand, “I’m …Arthur.”

Smiling, Merlin shook his hand. “Merlin.”

They kept smiling, and Arthur watched as that funny little gleam in Merlin’s eyes slowly returned again. They seemed so familiar, those eyes. Like he had seen them a thousand times before. He frowned, “are you sure we haven’t met?”

Merlin only laughed, “if you remember, I will.”

Not in a thousand years had Arthur ever expected to learn what that meant.

 


End file.
